Chapter 251: Act 18 – The Battle for the Lumber Yard (V)
In the forest by the riverside, a resonating ‘buzz’ suddenly erupted; behind the ghostly green thickets, countless spikes seemed to sprout forth, forming a translucent black wall that swept across the pebble-strewn riverbed. The foremost cavemen were caught off guard, crashing against it as if they had hit an invisible wall. The tremendous impact left them momentarily stunned, and they staggered back, their bodies filled with arrows, lying motionless in the center of the riverbank like waterlogged stones.
The cavemen were stunned by the sudden downpour of arrows; those at the front retreated in haste, while those behind were propelled forward by their own enormous inertia. Hundreds of them collided on the riverbank, momentarily creating chaos.
A golden opportunity!
The thought flashed simultaneously in the minds of Yuta and Vurn, two mercenary leaders hiding in the bushes. They drew their short and great swords, seemingly ready to seize the moment and lead their men into a charge to crush the cavemen.
However, Brendel’s longsword sprang from its sheath at his waist, and with a motion of his right hand, a gust of wind pressure shot across the ground with a ‘swish’ and flew past the two leaders; as the sword wind surged forward, withered wood and severed leaves lifted before them and fell. Yuta and Vurn paused, breath caught in their throats, instinctively turning to look at the young lord.
“My lord?” Vurn asked.
“Form an assault formation and line up on the riverbank,” Brendel commanded, his gaze fixed ahead, where Husher was leading over fifty mercenary cavalry around the riverbank, preparing for a charge.
“My lord, but…” The fiery-haired female mercenary leader Yuta glared at the chaotic group of cavemen by the riverbank. She clenched her white teeth, “This is a fleeting opportunity.”
“Your opponents are not human,” Brendel replied succinctly, glancing at her. He raised his left hand and pointed to his ears—indicating that the cavemen, accustomed to fighting in the darkness underground, were far more experienced at dealing with unexpected situations than fragile humans.
Even if a sudden attack caused them confusion, these creatures from Jotungrund would quickly recover, especially since their method of communication relied on similar sound waves, making it quicker and more effective than humans identifying troops and directions by banners amidst chaos.
In the game, the cavemen had a significantly shorter ‘time of confusion after being ambushed’ than most other creatures in a military formation, only lasting a single round. The worst performers were the goblins, who could scarcely reconfigure once their formation was disrupted. In contrast, the undead did not experience any confusion from ambush at all.
For such creatures, only a truly excellent army could seize that fleeting opportunity. In Brendel’s view, these mercenaries were already eliminated the moment they hesitated.
The two leaders exchanged glances, seemingly unconvinced, but at that moment, Crenshia unsheathed his longsword and stepped between them. “Listen to the lord,” the silver-haired middle-aged man said, keenly detecting something unusual amid the cavemen on the riverbank. “In dealing with these monsters, we do not have as much experience as Lord Brendel.”
Brendel was slightly taken aback, glancing at the man and sensing a certain ambition hidden in his silver eyes. But he smiled inwardly, not particularly caring about what these three leaders sought by following him at this moment; as long as there was such hope, they would naturally have their moments of submission.
“I’m glad you understand. I have no time for further explanations,” he said, lowering the tip of his sword. “So execute my orders.” With that, Brendel turned to face the direction of the riverbank.
The three leaders fell silent. “What about you, my lord?” Yuta, the fiery-haired female leader, asked anxiously, still not understanding why this young man insisted on having them confront the cavemen head-on.
There were over two hundred, nearly three hundred creatures from Jotungrund. Even a regular formation of five hundred from Erluin’s Southern Army would not dare to say they could withstand an assault from such numbers—not to mention their ragtag group of mercenaries.
“I already have a target,” Brendel replied, gazing at the direction of the riverbank.
Over there—
Husher and his cavalry were charging at more than thirty cavemen and bear goblins, the sound of hooves thundering along the riverbank—yet the cavemen seemed intent on turning to confront these new foes. At that moment, the two holy archangels controlled by Brendel completely removed their disguises, spreading their wings of light to entangle these enemies from behind—the battle on the riverbank instantly became fierce, with the two fully unleashed silver-tier archangels and the three bear goblins at nearly peak black iron strength fighting to a standstill against each other. However, amidst the many cavemen, they found it hard to gain the upper hand.
But that was just a fleeting moment, as Brendel had already sheathed his longsword and charged forward. The young man shot from the forest like an unleashed arrow, halving the distance to the battlefield by the first step, and as he leapt again, he became a wisp of shadow, piercing through the ranks of cavemen.
At that moment, mercenaries emerging from the forest viewed their young lord as a flickering black light—he surged forward, his black tailcoat billowing like a cloak swaying in the wind—this banner quickly infiltrated between the ‘adventurer,’ the archangels, and the cavemen and bear goblins, baiting them.
A few cavemen only then noticed this sudden enemy and turned to intercept, but they had barely lifted their weapons when Brendel, like a specter, dodged the shining steel and closed in on the central battlefield where a bear goblin stood.
The bear goblin, highly alert, twitched its furry ears and instinctively turned its hand. The flail in its grasp swung towards Brendel with a whoosh, but to the young man, this assault was slow as molasses. He paused and evaded the spiked iron ball, grabbing the cold iron chain and launching himself into the air with the goblin’s force—then releasing his grip, he spun in midair and landed firmly.
He dropped right onto the broad, sturdy shoulder of the bear goblin.
The entire sequence was executed in one seamless motion, accomplished in the blink of an eye. The mercenaries blinked, and suddenly saw Brendel half-kneeling on the bear goblin’s broad shoulder, calmly driving his longsword into its throat with both hands.
A spray of blood gushed forth, dazzling like a tattered flag that had once flown on the riverbank that afternoon.
Brendel withdrew his longsword, and the bear goblin let out a low, mournful howl. Its towering body swayed, then collapsed to the ground with a loud thud. Silence enveloped the battlefield for a moment.
Seeing this scene, the mercenaries seemed to forget the passage of time and the existence of the surroundings; they instinctively halted, breaths drawn in their chests carrying something bloody, hot, and somewhat legendary. However, those commanding them, though their gaze was also on the young figure, could not forget the environment at that moment—
Vurn stepped forward, cutting off the line of sight between his men and Brendel. He swung his great sword forward and commanded in a deep voice, “Pick up the pace, form up, and move forward! Do not let them reach the shore—”
But the fire war band leader turned his head, and in his eyes, the cavemen had already regained their order at this very moment.
These creatures from Jotungrund seemed capable of connecting with each other through some form of signal transmitted through the air. Under the command of just a handful of purple-red caveman warriors, those monsters that had been in disarray amid the earlier hail of arrows just moments before had already gathered and seemed ready to charge once more as the mercenaries stepped out of the forest.
No more than half a minute passed.
Vurn then realized how wise Brendel was to prevent their charge; had they charged, they would likely have faced the restructured cavemen before they even reached the riverbank, whereas the mercenaries launching an assault would not easily be able to halt their advance.
To engage a far stronger opponent without formation would leave little chance of victory—Vurn understood this without needing to think further.
He turned his head, and saw Crenshia at the center of the battlefield, maintaining the formation with Yuta, both wearing expressions of apprehension.
“Who is that young man?” Vurn thought. “The highland wizards and knights of Karasu have similarly exceptional descendants, yet these folks are no better than ordinary nobles…”
However, his thoughts returned to the battlefield, where he still felt skeptical about this confrontation. Although the young man’s judgments had proven correct time and again, the cavemen were increasingly intimidating. Even poised at the riverbank, ready to wait, faced with an enemy superior in morale, organization, and personal strength, he found it hard to believe they could repel even the first wave of charge.
He raised his hand, and the first row of soldiers dropped their large shields with a clatter as they pressed forward. The rear line was formed by temporary polearm bearers and swordsmen, while specialized archers and crossbowmen were reloading. The previous round of arrows had caused chaos but yielded only minimal results; it was hard to tell how much use they would have now, serving merely as a psychological comfort.
Sure enough, the number of cavemen falling to the second wave of arrows didn’t exceed a few. The cavemen and their towering bear goblins maintained formation as they waded through the water, the sound resembling an advancing death march. At this moment, not just Vurn, but he could clearly see the expressions of retreat and indecision on his men’s faces.
They were wavering.
Less than a hundred feet away, the archers released another wave of arrows, and Vurn clearly saw those feeble projectiles bouncing off the bear goblin’s thick fur, rendering them nearly ineffective.
Fifty feet.
Yuta gritted her teeth and stepped to the front of her subordinates. Though she felt weak, she deemed she could at least lessen the impact of the cavemen on her comrades—those who referred to her as their big sister, with whom she shared bonds of brotherhood and sisterhood.
For the first time, she felt slightly regretful, questioning whether she had made a wrong choice; she turned back to glance towards where the young man stood, just as Brendel was striking down a second bear goblin, though he hadn’t looked this way; Yuta couldn’t help but wonder if he was like other nobles who didn’t care about their lives.
Twenty feet.
Crenshia could almost see the wrinkles on the skin of the cavemen across from him, beads of sweat covering his brow as he gripped his longsword tightly.
The next moment, the two forces—or whatever you might call them—mercenaries and cavemen collided.
But the outcome surprised everyone.
At that moment, all sound vanished from the battlefield.
Everyone felt it similarly.
……(To be continued. To know what happens next, please log in for more chapters and support the author, support legitimate reading!)
